Monday, March 30, 2009

I work in a small office, which is fully staffed at five people. I pack a lunch. This means many things: I save myself ten dollars a day; can eat much, much healthier; and always have time for perhaps a midday walk or a nap.

Today it was a nap. On some days I do this in the conference room with all the lights off. On really beautiful days, I nap in my car with the windows down and occasionally the door open. Today was a car day. It's probably mid seventies outside right now, with beautifully crisp blue skies, and breezy. AKA it's perfect napping weather.

Ever wake up suddenly, in a slight state of panic?

It happened to me this morning -- after getting literally 2 hours of sleep, I woke up in a frenzy and was halfway dialing my work number to call in late when I realized I only live 15 minutes away now and could definitely still make it on time (I ended up being 25 minutes early to work, by the way).

So ... nap time. I parked my car in a mildly sunny spot because the warmth makes me fall asleep faster. I kept the door open to prop my feet on it and get a little cross breeze. About 45 minutes later, the hunting dogs on the property next to ours began barking as if someone was systematically killing them off one by one. Then a loud ass utility truck pulled into the driveway and decided to idle. And then it happened again.

I woke up in a frenzy. These things -- the dogs and the truck startled me awake. Still laying down, my eyes flew open, my right arm uncrossed from my left, I grabbed my keys and phone, and jumped out of the car . . .

and collapsed flat on my ass in the parking lot. Both my legs were asleep.

I couldn't even pull myself up off the burning ass hot asphalt. I was disoriented, overheated, and temporarily paralyzed from the waste down (thanks to propping my feet on the door, I assume). Once I finally managed to get myself off the ground, my heart was racing and I felt lightheaded. I sat on the edge of my driver's seat for a second and, still thinking about how I was mega late back from lunch, tried to get up and walk to the office. Bad idea.

I struggled to not fall again while trying to regain control of my facilities (I'm just grateful I didn't shit myself) for probably an entire minute next to my car -- never our of arm's reach of the open door -- and never successful. I gave up on waking my legs and attempted to make a mad, paraplegic-esque attempt to make it to the side of the building so I could support myself against the wall.

Mind you, I'm damn certain the men in the loud-ass truck that caused all of this to begin with were surely watching me bumble around like a drunk bastard in the parking lot. None of those men offered to help me get my seemingly crippled ass off the ground when I collapsed.

Speaking of collapsing, I don't really remember hitting the ground. I think I might have been partially unconscious when that happened. I know I landed on my left foot though, because it's torn ass up from the asphalt and my ankle hurts something fierce when I sit on it (which is how I love to sit at work).

Back to the real story. Somehow -- brain power, I guess -- I manage to make my legs work just long enough to make it to the front of the office and ... low and behold NO ONE is back. I started to look for my office key on the ring (there are only four keys on this ring and the office key is by far the largest), but when I stop focusing on making my legs function, they stop functioning and I nearly collapse again. I grabbed the door handle leaned into the glass, stuck the key in and made it happen.

I got inside and to my desk, put my keys down and pulled my ass down the hall to get some much needed goddamn water. I sat in a chair in the conference room, put away 30 ounces of Culligan, and thought I was feeling better.

When I walked into the bathroom, I realized the absurdity of this entire situation had just then reached it's climax . . .

Remember the arm crossing? And the bright sunshiney day? Apparently it's just bright and sunshiney enough and I'm just Irish enough that my fair maiden skin darkened around the areas that were crossed. I now have a tan line of the four fingers of my right hand on my left arm and I have a diagonal tan line of my left arm's edge across my right forearm. Fantastic.

But hey, at least I can walk again.

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I am Revolutionaire.

I'm a 29-year-old freelance photographer who, in her spare time, works for a bank and a lingerie company. I'm also an amateur, yet paid, web designer. Also, I think it would be exciting to teach English abroad.

I live with my best friend, soul mate, and lover of the last (going-on) nine years -- Jon-Michael. While we work opposite schedules, it's still the best feeling in the world to wake up next to him every single day. And we got married in November of 2013.